Sunday, February 14, 2010

A bright sunday morning.
I have lazy crazy plans with my lazy crazy friends on a lazy crazy afternoon. Ah. Perfection. I take that looooong shower, smell yummy , wear clothes that bring out the colour of my eyes yada yada yada.....till it's time to leave the house
kajal? check.
gloss?check.
perfume?check.
cash? check.
glares? check.
house keys? check.
conveyance? ch-e-c..errr..HMMMM..
Just when I thought nothing in the world can deter my happiest mood,reality hits me. It hits me like a stroke of lightening. I am suddenly made aware about the embarrassment clubbed with equal (if not more) amounts of harassment that I am going to face while on my quest of finding,or rather trying to find, that one blessed auto guy who'll fall for my pretty little face (courtesy the loooong shower and kajal) and oblige me by giving me a ride to my destination.

So I gather whatever courage ( have and embark upon the unbelievably dreaded journey of getting an auto guy to do his freaking job.

Life and its many ironies.Now, I am a liberal citizen of independent India. I would be more than happy to pay reasonable amounts of cash in return for services rendered. Now the probability of the price being 'reasonable' is as high as my climbing the everest (read: NEVER!); but the point of utmost nuisance is that they dont fucking want to do their job. Now I didn't tell u to enter this profession if you cant handle the stress that comes along with it.
"madam,gas nahi hai" or "wahan se khaali aana pdta hai" or "udhar bohot traffic hai"..n the best for the last "mujhe us taraf nahi jaana!" !

Really?! It's like I am committing a crime because where I need to go might not fall in the way of where his highness wants to go. Does he not realise that his job sheet instructs him to take any given passenger from any point A to point B (of the humble passenger's choice) at any given time. Also, the entire paying process, however tedious and torturous for the poor auto guy (*dramatic roll of eyes*) MUST happen by virtue of the good old meter.

Now if at all I manage to do the unthinkable, i.e, to get an auto guy to get the meter rule on when he wasnt agreeing initially, the war isnt overt. I have involuntarily won myself tickets to the 'crib fest of the year'. It's unreal how he'll go on about how little the money is and how I should pay him ten rupees more than the meter reading because he's so pooor and the world is so expensive. like hello!! if I were in such a brilliant position myself, would i really be sitting in the yellow-green noisy 'dabba'of his!?

So I have paid some fifty rupees extra to reach where I had to, fought with the pussyface throughout, heard sob stories about his life and have successfully got myself a headache. So much for a lazy crazy Sunday afternooon with friends.

I make a mental conclusion about how boarding a bus is way cooler.If only some of the bus passengers could think beyond touching my ass.
Sigh. Well now thats another story..